


The Lock

by Blue_Sparkle



Series: Locks and Keys [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Breakup/Relationship problems, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two Dwarves of Erebor are in love, they take a lock and put it up on a wall in the city, for anyone to see, even if most don't know which stranger put up which. These locks are symbols of a bond, and remain there forever. Usually. And sometimes they wander reappear in their maker's home, as if they had never been on any wall at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lock

The breeze and the soft rustling of drapes against the bed’s frame was what made Dwalin wake up. He was a light sleeper, something he had trained himself to be over the years, while training to be a warrior, and while wandering outside of mountains. Recently he hadn’t slept very deep anyway.

There was nobody there when Dwalin opened his eyes and sat up, and everything was as it was supposed to be, exactly the same as it had been before he fell asleep. He was alone, and only the moonlight now illuminating most of his bed rather than just the floor, was different from earlier.

That, and the little reflection of silver light on metal that wasn’t supposed to lie on one of the pillows. Dwalin knew what it was, even before he carefully picked it up.

He had made that lock himself, had engraved the pattern and polished it until it looked like a shining liquid surface whenever light hit it. It wasn’t the biggest lock, but sturdy and good, and fitting perfectly into his cupped hand.

It was practical and still beautiful and it might have served as an actual lock to keep something important closed, and still be a safe measure to protect treasures. It wasn’t why Dwalin had made it.

He remembered it so well, the process of it. How he spent so many hours trying to get the shape just right, to get it perfect because it _needed_ to be the best lock he’d ever made. How he had thought endlessly about a design and how he had asked Nori about suggestions while making sure he wouldn’t actually see it until it was done.

And Nori had loved it, in the end. Had cradled the lock in his hands and brushed fingers over the engravings over and over again, eyes shining as he examined it. He had smiled and kissed Dwalin and asked whether they should put it up that night, and then they did just that.

At that time of night the streets of Erebor had been nearly empty, and Nori and Dwalin didn’t meet anyone as they walked to the wall of locks. It was a spot every Dwarf knew, at the edge of Erebor, high up and close to the mountain’s surface, where the solid rock had been covered by a net of metal and twisted bars and pieces of iron woven into art.

Most places it was hard to see that, though, as hundreds of Dwarves had put up locks all over it, covering the stone completely in some places. Nobody was quite sure when or how that little custom started, but over the generations it had been done so many times that it was just another part of the mountain life, and nobody was left to question it.

There were old and new locks, small ones with thin keyholes and those that had words carved into them, large ones and those of precious metal and studded by jewels, and simpler ones that had been given unusual shapes.

Most of it had been hit by the golden light of the few distant lamps in the centre of the mountain that still lit this far away, but the spot Nori walked towards was hidden in shadow and right underneath the holes in the walls, so that the wall was illuminated in silver moonlight.

There were fewer locks there, and Dwalin could clearly remember how beautiful his chosen materials had made their own lock look in the moon’s light. Nori’s hands had been so warm when he squeezed his fingers, and then took the lock and the key Dwalin had provided.

Dwalin had curled his arms around Nori’s hips and lifted him up, laughing as Nori hit him playfully and then stretched up to secure the lock over a good spot on the metal frame. Dwalin had held him safe as Nori worked on the lock, and when Nori was done he let him slide down in his arms but had not let him go and hadn’t let his feet touch the ground just yet.

“You are such an old sap,” Nori had laughed as his arms curled around Dwalin’s shoulders for support.

They’d kissed again, slower and deeper and Dwalin had never felt this warm and happy before. Not from such a little thing.

“You agreed to do this,” Dwalin replied when they finally parted. “Now we have a sign of our love in the halls of our ancestors, for anyone to see.”

“If they care to look,” Nori had said and nuzzled against Dwalin’s neck. “The engraving of our names is hidden so well that I barely felt it. And it’s too high and remote to reach comfortably.”

“Good,” Dwalin had growled and buried his face in Nori’s hair. “Then this symbol’s just for the two of us.”

He had taken the key from Nori and then smashed it against the ground, kicking it with his heel and breaking it into tiny bits and pieces until there was not enough whole parts left to fix it ever again.

“For shame, that was such a beautiful piece of work, you should have thrown it into the river, like everyone, or melted it down.”

“This is a quicker solution.”

“You brute,” Nori had purred and after Dwalin had picked up the broken metal he made Dwalin pick him up again and wrapped his legs around the taller Dwarf’s waist.

Dwalin had only spared one last look towards their lock, before carrying his love back towards home.

The lock was one of best works, and certainly the one he had put the most effort into. Some thought it silly, but still lovers would come and put up a lock as a symbol of their bond. And now theirs was among them, too, there forever and telling of them for anyone who wanted to see or even could. Their love was now public and still anonymous and private and Dwalin had memorized the way the lock had gleamed in the light to keep the sight in his heart for the rest of his life.

The way the lock had gleamed and now was doing it again, but not on the wall where it was supposed to be, but here, in his bedroom.

It was a good lock, with no sign of age or use or scratches; Dwalin had made sure it would be sturdy, even if there was nothing for it to endure but time and the weather. The keyhole was a smooth opening with no signs of force being used on it, and even so, it wasn’t supposed to yield just like that, not without breaking it. But the lock looked just the way it had when it sat on Dwalin’s workplace.

The key was broken, and there shouldn’t be a way to open it easily, Dwalin had made sure of that. Even if locks weren’t what he usually did, if he worked with metals at all, he knew that he _was_ able to make a secure one.

Picking it might be possible though, tricky and difficult, but possible, even if it’d be very hard and even dangerous to climb up that bit of the wall, and try and open it without falling down. If anybody knew how to climb and unlock things that were never supposed to open.

Having it back wasn’t something Dwalin had expected, it wasn’t even something he considered as being something that _might_ happen, but now he felt like he could accept this as being real and not just a bad dream way too easily.

Dwalin’s fingers cramped around the lock, he took a deep shuddering breath, and another, deliberately trying to keep them even, brushed his hand over his face, rubbed over the bridge of his nose, pressed his eyes shut and tried to open his hand and drop the lock, but he couldn’t and somehow the metal didn’t disappear either, though he wished it would.

It didn’t, it was still there, as he sat on his bed, alone, and felt the sting of tears in his eyes. They did not spill, and though the room and the lock started to blur before his eyes, Dwalin did not cry.

It felt as if he had stopped breathing and as if his heart wasn’t beating anymore but was only spreading cold in his body.

The lock was never supposed to be opened, and yet here it was. Dwalin had never thought that he’d hold it in his hand again, and now he did, and the surface gleamed in the light of the same moon that had shone the night they had let go of it and left it on the wall, and it was just as warm as then, after he had held it in his hand for the way between his place and that wall at the edge of the mountain.

It was as if nothing had ever happened to that lock, as if it had never even left this house, as if there had been nothing there, and yet _everything_ had changed, and there was nothing Dwalin could do about any of it.

He stared at the little lock, unmoving, helpless despite all he knew and was able to do and he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the sight of moonlight on a polished lock’s surface.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I... thought this was a good idea yesterday, when I had been awake for too long. I'm sure other cities/countries have this, too, but in Cologne there is a bridge where there's thousands of locks hanging on the railing. Couples put them up and then throw the key into the river as far as I know, and somehow this seemed like a Dwarvish thing to do.
> 
> Though, why did this happen, why was Dwalin somehow not that surprised, would there be a happy end... I honestly don't know but I really wanted to write this and suggestions would be nice.
> 
> /edit: art by me, and the post is here http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/84266276753


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